


SING! or why sneaking up on Hummel is not a smart thing to do

by caledonius72



Category: Glee
Genre: Developing Friendships, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Humor, Martial Arts, Ninja Kurt, Self-Defense, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caledonius72/pseuds/caledonius72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puck wants to teach Kurt a lesson about walking round Lima in dark of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SING! or why sneaking up on Hummel is not a smart thing to do

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to the Puckurt Community on LiveJournal.
> 
> Inspired by a fic where Puck kicks Kurt’s ass to reach him a lesson – I liked it but I just wondered what would happen if it didn't go according to Puck's plan... 
> 
> I’m British and this is unbeta’d so forgive any Britishisms. Enjoy!
> 
> Rating: PG-13 for the swearing.  
> Character(s)/Pairing(s): Noah “Puck” Puckerman, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel  
> Genre: Humour, Friendship, and pre-slash if you squint  
> Warning: None, apart from bad language  
> Spoilers: None, it’s not episode specific  
> 

It's the ass end of the night. That weird time that's no longer today and not quite tomorrow. He's got a couple of twinges, and Puck's pretty sure he's going to have a fat lip from where that motherfucker got a punch in under his guard; but a good night all the same. Two wins and a draw. Nice.  
   
He's making his weary way home on foot, using the walk as a cool-down from the energy and adrenaline of the fighting, but he's still a little keyed up when he recognizes something in the gait of the man walking down the street in front of him. _Hummel..._  
   
Puck takes a harder look. The guy's just walking along with that half-mince, half-stride thing he does. Not too fast, not too slow – like he's got all the time in the world. Puck's always sneakily admired the “I own this town, and I'd sell it for a nickel” attitude that Kurt has. It's the same as his “fuck you all” scowl. But really, what the hell is Hummel thinking of? Wandering around the rougher parts of Lima at this time of night. Puck decides he's going to teach Kurt a little lesson in personal safety.  
   
He's wearing sneakers so he picks up some speed to catch up with Kurt. He's not quite sure of what to do, but Puck's a great improviser. Kurt's showing no sign that he can hear Puck coming up behind him, and Puck's making sure that he's as quiet as he can be, no heavy breathing, no rustling clothes. _This is gonna be sweet..._  
   
He's about 2 meters from Kurt when he realizes that the boy has slowed down to almost a stop. _So damn easy..._ Years of playing football and fighting have trained his body, so he just lunges forward and grabs hold of Kurt.  
   
And that's where it starts to go wrong. So very very wrong.  
   
Puck hadn't really noticed that the street isn't all that well lit where he's just launched his attack, and to be honest the lighting in this part of town is pretty shit anyways.  
   
What should be happening is Kurt quaking in his boots, screaming, flailing and Puck feeling all smug about scaring the bejesus out of him.  
   
Actually, what's happening is weird, embarrassing and fucking painful.  
   
Rather than squealing like a stuck pig, Kurt starts singing, not in tune or anything, just belting it out. “O! say can you see by the dawn’s early light...”  
   
Puck doesn't have much time to wonder why the hell Kurt got so damn patriotic all of a sudden, because he's now on the receiving end of Kurt's elbow, straight in his gut – right on the word “can” - and fuck but Kurt's got a sharp elbow, and it's kinda knocked the wind out of him.  
   
He loosens his grip a little on Kurt, and tries to snatch a breath, but he just chokes out a cry because Kurt's just brought his foot down hard on his instep – a ratty Converse is no match for one of Doc Marten's finest. There's a part of Puck's brain that notices the pain in his foot coincides with Kurt singing “see” but most of his brain is taken up with the overload of pain signals barreling up from his foot. Going by the flashing lights in front of his eyes, Kurt's brought down as much weight as possible – and up until that second, Puck was thinking that Kurt was so slight and slender that he'd be blown over in a strong breeze.  
   
Puck's grip on Kurt is completely gone now; he's in too much pain. He's kind of stooping forward, and really trying to get a word out so Kurt will hear his voice and stop hurting him.  
   
No such luck – Kurt's on a roll, and Puck doesn't see the balled fist flying towards his face until it's too late. The flashing lights are now a bit hazy as his eyes have teared up because Kurt's fist has made a connection with his nose. Normally, Puck can take a punch to the face, but what with being winded, and his foot in agony, it's another layer of pain.  
   
The final straw is Kurt's balled fist on the downswing. Puck's really at that fight or flight stage now, and he's verging on the flight, because, well, fuck this! Kurt's aim is true, and scores a direct hit on Puck's dick and more importantly his balls, and that's it. Puck's the one squealing like a pig, and he just collapses to the ground, trying to curl into a ball around the obscene pain radiating from his crotch.  
   
Kurt decides that isn't going to happen and grabs hold of Puck's hand, curling his fingertips over Puck's and squeezing and Jesus that hurts. Through the surges of pain, Puck can feel his hand and arm being pulled and twisted, and the ominous weight of Kurt's boot right at the top of his thigh.  
   
It's now that Kurt finally speaks.  
   
“What's it to be, fucker? I can dislocate your arm or your pelvis – which one, you fuckwad?”  
   
Puck's aching all over and can't barely grab a breath. _What the fuck?_ How the hell can the skinny gay kid kick his ass? And where did he get the potty mouth? That thought is parked as Puck can feel the pressure of Kurt's boot on his pelvis, Kurt's _steel toe-capped Doc Marten_ boot. Puck has to swallow because his mouth is hella dry all of a sudden.  
   
“K-K-Kurt...” he finally manages to wheeze out his friend’s name.  
   
“How do you know my name? You stalking me, you turd?” There's a pull on his arm, and Puck can tell he's about a millimeter from having something nasty go pop, and he just loses it and starts crying – it hurts like a sonofabitch and he's scared he's going to be really injured.  
   
“Puck” he tries (and fails) to keep the pleading note out of his voice. “It's me, Puck.”  
   
There's a gust of warm air towards him as Kurt leans down; fresh sweat and something citrusy-woody. The pressure of the boot near his groin is gone, and the tension on his arm is a little looser.  
   
“Wait. What?”  
   
“It's Puck.” He's not above begging now. “Please Kurt, let my arm go. You're hurting me.”  
   
He hisses as his arm is let go – it's kind of numb but tingling, he can tell that it's going to hurt, and start hurting real soon.  
   
“Puck? What the hell were you thinking, sneaking up on me like that?” Puck's just lying there flat on his back, massaging his arm to get some feeling back in it.  
   
Kurt crouches down and peers into Puck's face, the hard look is fading to be replaced by confusion.  
   
“Why would you do that? I thought we were...” Kurt's groping around for the right word, they're not quite friends, but not the enemies they once were.  
   
Puck's balls have descended again and his voice is a bit more level, but there's still that clogged up sound you get from having just been in tears.  
   
“Fuck if I know why now. Jeesus, it hurts.”  
   
“I am sorely tempted to leave you here.” Kurt makes an impatient clicking noise. “However, as there's no harm done, let's have a look.”  
   
Puck can't quite believe what Kurt's just said. _No harm done?_ Puck's sitting in agony here. He can't help but flinch when Kurt reaches out to him. Kurt grabs hold of his good shoulder and pulls him up so he's at least sitting. His legs are okay, but with the knocks from fight club, and what Kurt's done he's feeling rough.  
   
His breath is returning, so he props himself up with one hand and tries to shake off Kurt. He's going to stand up by himself, dammit, and try and claim back his dignity.  
   
Kurt takes a step or two back and keeps his eyes on Puck, still confused but that's morphing into pissed off. Puck can see that once he's back on his own two feet he's going to have some explaining to do.  
   
Puck somehow manages to get onto his feet, but he's shaky like a new born foal and totters a bit. Suddenly, Puck feels Kurt under his good arm, an arm around his waist.  
   
“Lean on me, or I'll let you fall down onto your stupid ass again.”  
   
Puck's grateful that there's no-one else around who witnessed the last few minutes – beyond embarrassing – so he's not got much left to lose. He drapes his arm over Kurt's shoulders and leans onto the boy – Kurt staggers a little, the waist-grip tightening, and compensates for Puck's weight.  
   
“What the hell, Hummel? When did you become such a freaking ninja?”  
   
“Shut up, Puck. I'm not answering any of your questions. You're the bad guy here.”  
   
Puck opens his mouth to complain again, but even he can admit that he's been pretty dumb, so he shuts his trap.  
   
“We're gonna start walking now, and as soon as you think you can walk unaided let me know. I can take your weight for a while, but I am **not** carrying you home.”  
   
Puck thinks this is pretty fair. He's the one who was an asshole, and Kurt doesn't really have to look after him. Kurt could have whipped out his iPhone, and got a few shots of Puck defeated. Because he has no impulse control, he says this out loud.  
   
“Yes, you are an asshole, you frightened me. And now I’m wishing that I _did_ get some shots of you.”  
   
Puck gives a shrug, and a soft ouch as the pins and needles in his arm flare up.  
   
“Why did you attack me? I thought you were better than that these days. Or do you go around jumping people anyway?”  
   
“NO! I'm not a mugger. I just saw you and thought I’d play with you a little.” There's a pause as Puck thinks about what's just happened. “I guess I didn't think it through all that well.”  
   
“Really, Sherlock? And what was the first clue?”  
   
Puck's kind of relieved that Kurt's gone back to bitchy mode. He might not be forgiven yet, but at least he's not getting the silent treatment.  
   
“When you elbowed me.” There's a hint of a question in Puck's tone.  
   
Kurt makes a noise like a game-show buzzer. “Wrong answer. Your first mistake was thinking that it would be okay to jump me. Okay to jump the person who's been fairly decent to you, who's in Glee club with you. The person who's had too many people jumping him...” Kurt trails off pointedly, letting that thought sink in.  
   
“Shit. Sorry, I didn't think it through.”  
   
“Hmmph. Not gonna disagree.”  
   
Puck's arm is beginning to feel okay now – still a little tingly, but not as bad as it was. He could let Kurt know he can walk on his own, but he's kind of enjoying having his arm slung over Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt's arm fits just great around his waist. Kurt's just the right height. Most of the chicks he dates he has to stoop a little, and their arms sit funny and they walk together awkward. Kurt's got the same stride as he does, so they're walking in sync. Puck enjoys body contact, that's why he's in fight club, and he's a cuddle-drunk, he just enjoys physical contact with people. He tends to get physical most often with girls; because that's the way it goes in Lima, but this? He's enjoying this.  
   
He turns his head, and drops his voice. “Sorry, dude. I'm an asshat.” He can't help but notice the way Kurt kind of shivers. Interesting.  
   
“Listen, where did you learn all that ninja shit anyway? You've never fought back at school. Not even when it was me who was messing with ya.”  
   
They've walked far enough that they're in the better lit streets, so when Kurt turns to fix him with a stare, he can see Kurt's face all up close.  
   
“Dalton. After the whole thing with Karofsky, I realized I had to do something. There's only so much my rapier wit can do.”  
   
Puck just nods, he gets what Kurt is saying. He kept things from getting too rough with Kurt. It was funny when Kurt threw a bitch fit after a dumpster toss, and started cussing them out with the big words, but he knows that some guys would have tried to do worse. Seems like Kurt's not that girly after all.  
   
“Seriously though, you were awesome.” He tries to lighten the mood a little. “You can't tell anyone that you got the better of me though, I’ve got to maintain my badass rep.”  
   
“Of course, because your badassness is not to be questioned.” Puck just grins at the sarcastic tone, he knows he's supposed to get all upset but really he's beginning to have some proper respect for Kurt, the guy gave Puck the smackdown he deserved. He's kinda pleased his boy can handle himself in a bad situation.  
   
“You know it! Listen, you can't have learnt all of this from that preppy bunch of wusses.”  
   
Kurt just gives him a pitying look. “You only saw the Warblers. Dalton has a pretty decent reputation for sports, and the whole non-bullying policy also includes self-defense.” There's something about Kurt's smile that tells Puck there's more to this.  
   
“I call bullshit. You were pulling some moves that would get you kicked out of my fight club. You did not fight fair.”  
   
Kurt's face transitions from annoyance, to pride, back to annoyance, and ends on sheepish.  
   
“Okay.” Kurt lets out a sigh. “Yes there were self-defense classes, but they weren't all that great. More about not getting into bad situations, or how to talk yourself out of one. And let’s face it, you and I know how unproductive it is to try and persuade someone a few pounds heavier than me that they don't really want to throw me in the dumpster.”  
   
“I knew it.” Puck stops and does a little victory jig. “Spill.”  
   
Kurt stands there and gives Puck something like an affectionate look. Aw yeah, he's totally forgiven now. He puts his arm back over Kurt's shoulder and starts walking them both forward again.  
   
“Promise not to laugh?”Kurt's looking a little hopefully at him.  
   
“Not promising nothing, but try me anyway.”  
   
Kurt just rolls his eyes. “Sandra Bullock” he whispers.  
   
Puck's just confused now. She's hot in a MILFy way, and she was pretty good in Speed, though not as good as Dennis Hopper, that guy was the badasses badass. Puck can't make the link between Kurt being all feisty ninja and the queen of rom-coms.  
   
Kurt sighs. “I forgot who I was talking with. Sandra Bullock did a movie where she was an undercover FBI agent in a beauty pageant. One of the scenes is where she shows everyone some self-defense moves. She called it SING.”  
   
“Oh, _that's_ why you sang the banner...  but where did racking me in the nuts come from?”  
   
“Idiot. SING is an acronym.” Puck's blank face earns him an eye-roll. “The letters in SING stand for something. S for solar plexus, I for instep, N for nose, G for groin. Can you not remember the order I hit you?”  
   
Puck thinks about it for a few seconds, and it makes sense, but he still doesn't know why Kurt sang the national anthem.  
   
“Okay, I get that. But what the hell with the singing? 'Cos you were off man, didn't hit one true note.”  
   
Puck should really look into his whole brain-mouth interaction, because all he gets is Kurt's fingers digging into his side, which kinda hurts as that's where Josh landed a good kick earlier. Since when did Hummel's arm go back around his waist?  
   
“I wasn't practicing, you moron. They say that when people are attacked, they kind of freeze, and then they find it difficult to yell. Plus there's the sad fact if you shout “Help” no-one comes. They say if you sing or make a loud noise it puts your attacker off, because they're not expecting it, and singing something does attract attention, mostly because people wonder who's singing so loudly.” Kurt gives a sad little smile. “Singing the national anthem is a good one, because people are kind of trained to stop and listen, and look at who's singing it, and there can't be many people who don't know the words and tune.”  
   
Puck likes how damn smart Kurt is about things. He doesn't just do stuff, he does like research and shit.  
   
“That's pretty cool.”  
   
Kurt stops and disentangles himself.  
   
“This is my turning. You gonna be alright from here?”  
   
Puck looks around and realizes he's only got about 6 blocks before he's home. “Yeah, I'll be fine. C'ya, Hummel.”  
   
“See you tomorrow, Puck. And don't worry, my lips are sealed.”  
   
<<<>>>   
   
Kurt's just putting his clothes in the laundry hamper when his phone pings to say he's got a new message.  
   
 _u nvr told me how u got ur ninja skillz._  
   
Kurt smiles, and docks his phone to charge, clicking off his light. He'll deal with Puck's questions tomorrow.  
   
<<<>>>   
   
Puck doesn't see Kurt until late on in the morning. He's striding down the corridor towards the language classrooms, the strap of the messenger bag gripped tightly. Kurt's wearing some kind shirt-blouse thing with far too many ruffles and frills on it. _How can a guy like that have kicked my ass?_  
   
Puck waits for Kurt to swing past, and grabs hold of him and pulls him into a supply closet. He's learnt his lesson, and as he's tugging Kurt, he speaks so Kurt doesn't go psycho.  
   
“What on earth...? Puuuck!” There's a whine in Kurt's voice. “Did you have to grab me? You've crushed the crepe-de-chine”  
   
Puck couldn't give a frog's fat ass. He wants answers, and he's had some time to think. He pulls the door to, and flicks on the light.  
   
“Welcome to my office. Have a seat.”  
   
Kurt looks around disdainfully and spots a crate tipped on one end. He runs a hand over it, and finding it acceptably clean, perches on it – one leg over the other, and his hands daintily folded in his lap. He looks up at Puck, who's casually leaning against the door.  
   
“This is about last night, isn't it? Why can't you just leave it be?” Kurt's trying to be all brittle and bright, but there's a glint of amusement in his eyes.  
   
“Not gonna. I need to know how you did it. And then some.”  
   
Kurt sighs, he knows that Puck is not going to let this lie. “Okay, ask away. But I reserve the right not to answer.”  
   
“Yeah, right. Like you don't want to tell me.” Puck narrows his eyes. “So, where did you learn those moves, really.”  
   
“The Triangle Club. Once I realized that the Dalton lessons weren't going to cut it, I enrolled there.”  
   
“Sure, but that was more than self-defense. You pulled some moves that I've only seen in Jackie Chan movies.”  
   
Kurt gives Puck a little smug grin. “I may have signed up for some extra lessons.”  
   
“Right on! I knew you were busting out some moves.” Puck's grin slides into a frown. “But what the hell were you doing running around town that late?”  
   
“I don't think that's any of your concern, Puck.” Kurt's gone all snitty-snooty.  
   
“Hell, it is. I'm gonna worry if my boy is wandering round a rough neighborhood.”  
   
“Your boy? What does that even mean?”  
   
“You're my boy. All of the glee guys are my boys.” Puck's a little pissed, didn't Hummel realize that? Alright, they don't hang out all that much, but surely the guy's picked up on the fact that Puck's not been such a douche. “And you're still not answering my question.”  
   
Kurt gets a shifty look in his eyes, so Puck can tell Kurt's been naughty.  
   
“If it will make you leave me in peace, then I'll tell you.” Kurt's hands flutter to fix his bangs. “I was watching your fight club.”  
   
Puck's a little floored by that. The whole point of the fight club is that no-one knows about it. Someone must have blabbed; but none of the guys are the kind that would talk.  
   
“How did you find out? **_I_** don't even know what’s going down until a couple of hours beforehand.”  
   
Kurt smirks a little more. “If you keep quiet at the dojo and just listen it's amazing what you can hear... Plus, for a secret club, you're all fairly obvious about where you're going. I don't get to all of them, sometimes I don't get the details in time, sometimes I'm doing something else, and sometimes I can't tail you...”  
   
Kurt flushes a little and it's way obvious that he wants to take the words back.  
   
“Tail me? You telling me that you follow me round?” Puck just grins. “Well, you can't not, I’m _that_ awesome.”  
   
“I don't follow you round all the time, just when I need to. You're not _that_ fascinating.”  
   
“So what did you think about last night?” Puck’s hoping for a Kurt version of “totally awesome”.  
   
“You were good, but you let your guard drop. You get over-confident sometimes and it lets you down. But, yeah, you're a good fighter.”  
   
Puck can't get pissed because Kurt's telling the truth. Perhaps he could have been a little less brutal about it, but then that's how Kurt rolls.  
   
“Why?”  
   
“Why what?”  
   
“Why do you watch fight club? I thought you'd be home with your Dad, or rearranging your closet, or something?”  
   
“Noah Puckerman, you might have realized by now that I don't follow every gay stereotype.” Kurt's demeanor is scathing. “I just like it, always liked it. The wrestling on TV is too theatrical. But your fight club, it's honest, no frills. There's something balletic about it, not elegant or anything, but it's real, you know.”  
   
Funnily enough, Puck gets what Kurt's saying. He kind of agrees with him, but wouldn't know how to say it in words.  
   
“You don't want to join, do you?” Puck's not sure about how he feels about that. On one hand it would be all kinds of awesome to see Kurt kicking some ass, but on the other he doesn't think Kurt would go down too well with the guys.  
   
“No! I get enough bruises at school. I don't need any more.”  
   
“Yeah...” Puck's a little suspicious now. “How come you haven't smacked down Azimio like the hand of God?”  
   
Kurt looks a little shifty. “Can I ask not to answer that question?”  
   
“Nope. You gotta tell me, I won't spill.”  
   
Kurt knows that's true so he sighs and gives an answer through gritted teeth.  
   
“Because if I do, then it'll get worse. They'll know I will fight back, and every moron will want to try and have a piece of me. If I tried to complain after fighting back, then it's just “rough-housing” - I lose being the victim of a bully.”  
   
“I don't get it. You _want_ to be a victim?”  
   
“Of course not! But I don't want to have anything bad on my permanent record. Anyway, there's a big difference between high school bullies and muggers. I'll fight back on the street, but not in the corridor.”  
   
Puck can see Kurt's point. A guy like Kurt needs to have a good record to get into a fancy college. Puck burnt his bridges for that a long time ago, and it's too late to try and improve. Puck's options seem to be community college or perhaps state; or even worse, straight into a lame-ass job.  
   
“Fair enough.”  
   
“Can I go now?” Kurt’s waggling his foot in circles, clearly wanting to get the hell out of the cupboard.  
   
“Not yet.” Puck’s still curious. “So how much do you know?”  
   
“About what? Puck, you have to actually give people some context. We’re not mind readers.”  
   
“Martial arts, man! Do you have to be so snarky?”  
   
“I do when I have to talk to someone who talks in non sequiturs.” Kurt takes a deep breath, obviously trying to calm down a little. “I’ve tried jiu-jitsu, karate, judo, tae-kwon-do. Currently I’m studying the use of sai.”  
   
“The short swords? Sweet. They kinda suit you. Small, sharp and vicious.”  
   
Kurt grins at him, “Did you just pay me a compliment? I’m just going to assume you did. I like them a lot, I’ve gotten really good with them.” Puck can see a real smile on Kurt’s face, he’s genuinely proud of what he can do.  
   
“Listen, you and me should meet up. I’ll bring my nunchucks, and you bring the swords. Maybe we can pick up a coupla tips from each other?”  
   
Kurt barks out a laugh before replying, “You would be willing to be seen in public with me, outside of school or Glee?”  
   
“’Course! You’re like a gay ninja or something now, you’re badass, and you’re my boy. Why not?”  
   
Kurt just shrugs at him.  
   
“I suppose there would be a decent trade-off. There are some moves of yours I’d like to try, plus I don’t think there’s anyone better to teach me how to fight dirty.” The way that Kurt says the last word makes Puck grin even wider.  
   
“Kurt? You and me? We’re going to kick ass.” Puck’s got what he wanted out of this, and Kurt’s going to be a good match for him, he’s too good at taking out the big guys, but he needs to expand to make sure he can get the short shifty tricky guys too.  
   
Kurt’s already up and opening the door, bag slung over his shoulder, not a wrinkle in sight.  
   
“Fine. Come to mine on Friday night after dinner, we can practice in the back yard. It’s date night, so Finn will be out with Rachel. Unless you’ve got a date?”  
   
“Nah, me and Lauren are cool like that. I’ll be there.”  
   
“See you around, Noah.” With that, Kurt leaves the closet and walks off down the corridor, leaving Puck staring at him, shaking his head in wonder at the way his world’s just shifted a little.  
   



End file.
